Rain of Blood (2P FACE x Reader x ?)
by Billcipher4
Summary: (As I've said in some Gravity Falls Fanfictions, I suck at intros.) Do you believe in coincidences? Maybe they're real, and the meeting of this group and young lady was a coincidence. But, then again... Maybe it was fate. It certainly was a gamble when you killed someone out on a limb, but all in all, the event and night in all had proved that your life would change afterward.


**(A/N): Hey, people! Here we goes, it's a 2P!Hetalia Reader Insert. I hope that this is okay for FF, I've never posted one on here before. I'm workin' on more ;3**

It rained, it rained a royal crimson from the alleyway you stood in.

Your eyes widened, showing a brief glimpse into the tapped-into insanity that your head held. Might seem crazy to civilians, but to yourself, you were completely normal. All psychopaths were completely similar in this pattern of predator and prey.

Your grin extended until your face was starting to ache, you throwing your head backward and soon erupting finally into hysterics, looking over your ex-teacher's corpse in glee, in relief as you sunk down to your knees, completely joyous and sadistic thoughts wallowing throughout your mind.

It showed no signs of moving, obviously the poor victim of Homocide's existence had come to a jolted halt. _"They've finally died, they've finally died," _repeated throughout your mind, said place fading away to all of the 8 years you had put up with this teacher.

_~~Flashback~~_

_Your current 9th grade teacher, Ms. Ader was looking down at you with a rather stern expression and narrowed eyes. You looked up at her, a nervous smile ticking it's way into your face as you closed your eyes briefly to emphasize your expression. _

_She shook her head, snatching your homework away as she 'tsked' her way up to the front of the room._

_She looked up at the Freshman class, placing the paper to her side and sprouting a sly smirk on her face. "Class, when was this homework due?" She asked plainly of the children, referring to the homework that she had taken from you._

_The jackass of the class, William, or Will rather, raised his hand with a smirk infecting his face as well. "Yes, Will?" He nodded, proceeding to jab his thumb in the direction of your crestfallen face. "If I am correct, then that homework was due at least a week ago, Ms. Ader." He answered._

_Her smirk started to give way to a satisfied grin, chuckling a bit under her breath as said happened. "And that makes it _late_, doesn't it, class?" The students each gave her a tentative nod, heads bobbing up and down in an un-synced pattern. _

_She looked back at (F/N), smoothing out her grey pencil skirt and walking over to the poor child, soon leaning her weight unto the wooden desk and causing loud creaking noises to strike the children's ears._

_"And (F/N), what happens when we turn work in late..? This isn't Middle School anymore, kid," She spoke harshly to her, "You're going to fail highschool." Said girl's eyes started to bud small tears as she let out a whimper, lowering her melancholy gaze to the desk._

~~End of Flashback~~

The crazy 22 year old grinned a bit wider, reminded of how terrible all of those years were. She seemed to purposely move along into your grade with you every year, even into college. Well, you had found it to be quite strange that she had a degree that qualified her for being a teacher at a fine arts college - as well as one for being a high school teacher.

She was finally free! Rid of the sick woman that had bullied her for _8 whole years_. Such a long time that this woman had tormented her as a child, beyond the years of childhood even. The worst adult that she'd ever known, and in her mind, would ever come to know. "_No one worse..._" You thought as you continued to stare remorselessly at the bloodied, battered corpse of the once existent Ms. Ader.

You were so clouded with your own triumph that you couldn't remember to shuffle out of the alley _after_ hiding the body. You, instead, turned left and bolted out of the alley; grinning widely and resounding out in a loud, close-eyed laugh as you ran on with your knife held securely in your hand with fresh, iron-scented and stains splattered against your being.

The night was one of those cool ones, where if you ran at the right speed it would prickle your skin with a harsh pressure, but you either ended up not caring or your adrenalin had taken you over anyways.

It was early November (the 6th to be exact), which meant that discarded leaves lay scattered all around on this night - Some floating along in the light breeze, and some being carried after you as you ran. It was dark out - very dark, but a tad cloudy too, leaving the strangely Full Moon to be clouded around in a hazy, beautiful manner.

You soon came to find how beautiful indeed, and this was when you landed your feet unto a stone-clad look out that was roofed with iron supports, holding you back from the massive lake that sat just beyond the night.

There were barely any out at this strange and late hour (2:26 AM to be exact), and if there were, they'd simply try to ignore your blood-clad form and continue to saunter on through the eerie streets they called home. There _were_, however, a select few men who _didn't _run along the town after seeing you in fear, but instead started to watch your overly joyful form.

Cool wind prickled your skin and heightened your senses as you held your arms out and popped your balance up onto one foot. Giggling like a child, you let such a feeling be known, "This feels so wonderful!" You exclaimed as your extremely long (H/C) hair breezed behind you and towards the men who stood and watched.

The first one to make any noise was a tanned American man who had a rose-red tinted dark brown shade of hair that housed a cowlick, he wore a dirt, blood, and sweat-covered tank top that was topped with several dog tags and a dull, dark brown and purely American bomber jacket. He wore big, pitch black shades with a smirk.

He started to swing his nail-clad bat in a sly and smug manner, letting out a confident and dark chuckle as he advanced on your form. "Well, well, looks like we got a stray Dollface hangin' 'round parts ah town that she shouldn't be. Right, men?" He now turned his head back towards his brother, step-brother, and the man he personally only called "Fat-ass Frenchie". A man that had peach-tinted blonde hair and piercing electric blue eyes let out a giggle as he clapped his hands to show his joy and patted down on his long khaki-colored formal pants, tugging down on his formal purple vest, fixing the ends of his pink sleeves and correcting his bow tie.

The "Fat-ass Frenchie" rolled his eyes and took a long drag out of his cigarette, puffing out a blurring cloud as he grunted, not fixing his formal-but-old purple dress shirt or just-as-old long black dress pants as the Englishman had done. The "brother" with the strange curl streaming out of his head rolled his eyes the same as the Frenchman he did and replied "Yo, Al, how 'bout you shut the fuck up, eh?" He suggested as he put a hand in the right pocket of his dark blue jeans that stood against his flannel shirt.

Allen scowled at the trio, uttering a small "I hate you all, disappointments" as he looked back ahead at your beautiful form and walked up to you, tapping a shoulder of yours and smirking yet again.

Maybe you hadn't heard them at this point, or just ignored them, but either way you reacted by letting out a small squeak in surprise, slipping on the smooth stone and throwing yourself backwards, the American taking this as an opportunity to catch you and did so, swinging down and looping his arms around your waist as you held the knife behind you so not as to hurt the man.

You blushed out of embarrassment, looking up into the shades of the man as you couldn't see his eyes, "Oh, dear! I apologize, were you speaking to me..? Thank you for catching me, by the way." you spoke out with a small, polite smile.

The Brit of the Quartet resounded out in a long, joyous giggle as his hands found themselves waving in the air as the brightly colored man made his way over to the duo of you and Al. "Dearest poppet, I apologize for my dearest brother Allen~!" He sang politely, grinning ear to ear as he patted the clearly pissed Allen's head. "Oh! Sorry, love, where are my manners..? My name is Oliver, but _please_ call me Ollie~!" He finished.

The one with the curl lifted his shades unto his hair as he neared you three, his sharp violet eyes gazing you over as he passed by Al expressionlessly. "Eh, fuckhead," He started off, smacking Allen upside the head as said guy growled and repositioned his left arm underneath you and pulled away his right, effectively punching the Canadian in the face.

His shades fell off of his head as he snapped his enraged gaze to his half brother as he growled in response, burning a hole into the possibly non-existent soul of the smirking American as Oliver slipped you out from under the hold of Al and held you himself with a fearful gaze to the brothers "Pleeeeaaasseeee don't swear! Or fight!" He pleaded as the boys then lunged at each other, Allen sitting on top of the man and laying punches before being flipped over and punched repeatedly by the violet-eyed man.

During all of this you only watched before looking at Oliver and smiling widely, offering a hand and greeting him with "It's wonderful to meet you, Ollie!" As he shook your hand whilst grinning. "It's lovely to be graced with the blessing of meeting such an angel, Poppet~" He countered back, lifting your right hand to his head and brushing his lips lightly against your knuckles with a curt smile.

You giggled, smiling continuously whilst your face grew a bit warmer around your softly brightening cheeks in the form of a shy and flattered blush. "Thank you very much, new friend!" He grinned expressively, nodding to start the beginning of his response, "There isn't a need to thank me, dear," He stood straight and proudly like the gentleman he was, showing off his beautiful smile and bringing his hands to his back.

Allen looked over, glaring at Oliver and shouting out pleads and curses such as, "Get the fuck over here and help me dammit!" or, "I'll eat a damn cupcake or whatever, old man!" as Matthieu just continued to have at it with him.

Said man growled and gave a final shove and kick to his half-brother, then walking over to your little duo and holding out an un-bruised hand. "Matthieu. Call me by my full name and the last thing you'll see is a hockey stick." He promised as you shook with him, harboring a smile.

"I'm fine with that, Matt!" You assured with the same bright smile whilst you let go of his hand, "Oh, and I feel like I should mention, Ollie - You have beautiful eyes..." You stated, looking to your left and meeting the baby-blue laced with hot pink marbles his as he grinned at your compliment, blushing. "Oh poppet, thank you so much!" He started as he averted his gaze towards the man who still lingered where he had stood,"Your eyes are...breath-taking, if I may add.." He complimented and you smile, batting your hand in dismissal. "My eyes are nothing special!" You replied beamingly, "There are probably thousands of people out there with the same ones!"

Before Ollie could reply, the man in the purple and black stepped up, taking a long drag from his cigarette and snuffing the stub out by rubbing it into Allen's scalp. "Bonjour, mon nom est Francois," He leaned over curtly as he started, forming a mock bow as he continued, "Ravi de vous rencontrer, ma fille." You smiled, nodding politely to him, "Thank you, Francois!" (Although you knew very little French).

As this ensued, Allen glared daggers at the Shit-eating wine breather whilst continuously trying to get the still hot ashes off of his head, tussling his hair at this but effectively getting the worthless pieces out none-the-less.

Although, some of these pieces landed on Matt.

He turned, "What the hell, shit stain?!"

Allen turned, growling, and shoved him a bit, "Don't fuckin' call me that, asshat!"

"I damn right will, cock sucker!"

"Weed drinker!"

"Can you even drink weed!?"

"If you try hard enough, yes!"

"Drug dealer!"

"Animal slaughterer!"

"Boys, boys!" Oliver intervened, throwing his hands up to the air. He shook his head, "tsk"ing with a frown on his face. "What am I going to do with you two?" He asked rhetorically.

Francois was already pulling out another cigarette as this ensued, lighting it after speaking out, "I know a good landfill for shit stain." He stated, this earning him a whining squeal from Oliver. "That wasn't very nice, Francy-pants! Apologize, poppet!" The bright colored man demanded. At this, the Frenchman flashed an A-ok sign at Al. Oliver smiled at this, not knowing what it meant back in France.

"Oh, that reminds me!"Oliver started off.

"What is it, old man?" Allen replied.

"Don't think I'm deaf, dearies! That's seventy five from each of you when we get home." A chorus of groans erupted from the group you were with, causing you to smile lightly. These guys were nice.


End file.
